Physically, the recovery has been easy. In fact, feeling 'normal' has been emotionally difficult. I yearn to feel the 'fluttering' and heaviness in my stomach. Now I literally and figuratively feel empty.. and it's still so hard to wrap my head around that.
Emotionally, well, that's another matter. People keep asking us how we're doing. The truth is, it changes by the minute.
There are times when we're falling apart, in full sobs, and then there are others when it doesn't even feel like any of it really happened. When for a fleeting moment it doesn't even feel like the pregnancy was real. But I've decided to share some of the former moments with you all.
First breakdown occurred when we arrived home from the hospital. No surprise since I was emotionally dangling by a thread to begin with. But I expected my trigger to be the diapers we had already purchased, or the Babies R' Us catalog sitting on the coffee table. But I was numb to all of that. Instead, it was when we were returning the car seats to the store.
Yes, I know, it's asking for trouble to do anything baby related the day after losing your babies. But I felt that having two huge car seats sitting in my living room would be far worse in the long run. So, I asked my brother to bring his SUV into town.. giving us one less thing to worry about later.
We loaded them up into his SUV, and originally, Brad was just going to follow him to do the return while I stayed at home. My gut kept telling me that wasn't fair to Brad. I needed, and should, go with him. By the time we got to the first stoplight, behind my brother's vehicle, tears were already falling. Everything inside me was saying, "I don't want to return this stuff. I want to USE this stuff. It belongs to my babies..."
By the time we arrived to the store, I could barely breathe. Brad held my hand, and gave it a squeeze that said he'd be right back. Clearly, I couldn't go in. As I sat there in the car, my face turned away from the store, the car door suddenly opened. I hear my brother's voice, "Are you okay?"
The flood gates immediately opened. We hugged until I stopped crying...
The next hurdle would come later in the evening, and it took me by complete surprise.
I struggled to explain the depth of the emotion I felt, so worried that he wouldn't understand. That he couldn't grasp that I hadn't showered since I delivered our children. Tears streaming down my face, in near fetal position, I explained that I still felt them on me. That I didn't want to wash them off. That I didn't want to wash that day off of me.. That I just couldn't.
He implored me to just wait, and try in the morning. "You'll sleep better if you just wait."
So I did.. But the morning proved no easier.
Before even going into the restroom, Brad offered, "I'll come in and sit while you shower if it helps." But I assured him I could do it. It wasn't fair to him to make him take care of me. I should be able to shower on my own.
I was wrong.
I made my way to our bathroom, removed most of my clothing, and then froze again. I started to cry from deep within my gut. Blood dripping down my legs. I admitted defeat and called out for my husband.. who made me look at him as he told me repeatedly that nothing ever could wash away our babies. That moving on from that day doesn't make me a bad mother. All the things that I had been trying to tell myself, but I only start to believe when my husband says it.
Sure enough, he sat in the restroom for my entire shower, which I cried my way through. But once I got out, I wrapped a towel around me, and Brad just held me until some sense of normalcy returned.
A few hours later, we were off to the funeral home to pick out urns and plan a memorial service. (If you were wondering, we've decided to do an informal candlelight memorial.) Strangely enough, neither of us were emotional there. It was just too businesslike to elicit anything. But I also knew that it would mean planning some things at home, like music selection, that would get me a few times. But all in all, the planning has actually given me something to focus on, instead of allowing me to dwell too much.
That was until tonight. We had just finished dinner, and suddenly my breasts HURT. And I just happened to have one arm pulled back and realized that my breast looked like I had a rock implant in it. So I touched it, and sure enough, the rock implant description was even more accurate. I was taken aback.
I turned to Brad, "You have to feel this. What is this? This can't be.... I'm making milk."
Right on time. Three days after delivering, I was engorged. I remarked bitterly, "Sure. THIS my body can do when it's supposed to."
Within 30 seconds, the tears came again. My body was making milk for the babies I didn't get to bring home. And I have to expect it to last at least a few days. A reminder that I can't ignore, overlook, or distract myself from. Just an 'in your face' statement from my body that I should be feeding my babies.
I felt utterly gutted. And again, grateful to have an understanding husband to console me.
He hasn't had an easy go of it either, but his triggers are completely different. His body isn't sending him cues and his hormones aren't fluctuating.. Just random moments throughout the day are difficult -- a specific post or message we receive, a conversation we're having, or just a quiet time during the day. It starts with a quivering chin, but ends up with us holding each other.
We know it's all "normal" .. but normal isn't easy.
No comments:
Post a Comment